To Talk of Family
by Yidkirkin
Summary: The way the world works is ephemeral -but it isn't always terrible. Before his parents died, Dudley didn't know much about his father's grandparents, only that Cecilia Dursley nee Bovino was estranged from them. But since Aunt Marge is unwilling to take he and Harry in for the summers, it looks like he's about to get a crash course!
1. Chapter 1

**To Talk of Family**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

SPOILERS

The first week of Dudley's vacation ended on a Saturday; but that day began as any other day had in the several summers previous. Dudley slept in until it was very nearly lunchtime, awoke to find that his parents had left earlier to go grocery shopping in the city, and after a quick meal he went out himself to meet up with Piers and the other lads. With a lack of anything exciting to do, the small group mainly traipsed about Little Whinging aimlessly, bearing the heat with as much grace as they could while grateful that there were no more classes for the near future.

That particular day was about when Dudley began to grow used to the routine of the summer; he was glad to be back with Piers in their old stomping grounds, with friends who didn't think a sure laugh was to give a whack to the shins with a Smelting's stick every five minutes. All of his childhood friends, except for Piers, went to a public school in their neighbourhood as opposed to the boarding school, and while Dudley was glad he attended his father's alma mater it was good just to see some familiar faces again. He also liked that no one here knew about the nurse-imposed diet he was still following –as most of his dorm mates at Smelting's had taken to the diet as if it were some sort of terribly hilarious joke.

Well, they all had save for Piers, but Piers was his best friend and hadn't said anything about the diet when it first arose nor when he was still following the updated version over a year later. In fact, Dudley and Piers had only grown closer during their years at Smeltings. Nowadays it wasn't just Dudley who would stick up for the smaller teen if the need arose –Dudley trusted Piers completely and he knew that the other would have his back through thick or thin.

That wasn't to say he hadn't made any other friends, but none of them had the same bond that he and Piers did. It was a small point of contention with his father that he wasn't as much a social butterfly as Vernon had always thought he would be, but it hadn't come up lately so Dudley was hopeful that the subject had been forgotten in lieu of his prowess in boxing.

That Saturday in June, Dudley had tramped up and down the familiar streets for hours, and the only time he split from the others was when he and Piers decided to go out for lunch on their own. It was a fairly tame day in and of itself –no one got into any fights or plastered anything with graffiti, and since there wasn't any school work to be done their collective curfews had been extended a full hour later than the year before. That hour was spent milling around in one of the more deserted parks, laughing and generally wasting daylight before the proverbial mealtime bell rang and they all departed for home.

Walking back alone, Dudley was tired but happy, anticipating a nice supper upon his return –and beyond that, looking forward to the next day's plan of getting up at a decent time in order to walk to the nearest mall (some five kilometres away). Leisurely moving through the neighbourhood in the quickly cooling evening air, it felt as if he hadn't been away from Privet Drive for the better part of a year at all, and he could _almost_ forget about the quickly encroaching date of his cousin's return that never failed to set his parents on edge.

..._almost_.

As Dudley turned down onto his street –lit mostly by the streetlamps now instead of the sun –he looked to his house and to great confusion saw that his father's car wasn't in the driveway, that the light above the porch was dark. He thought this was quite strange; his parents had been gone for longer than six hours at this point, and their note had only mentioned going into the city for errands. He fished his keys out of his pocket as he stepped up onto the porch and swiftly unlocked the door, toeing his shoes off and into the closet and calling out just in case someone was home after all.

No one answered him from further in, so Dudley flicked the outside light on and trudged up the stairs to go and change into some night clothes. Once back downstairs, he turned on a few more lights and checked the fridge to see what he could use to make himself up a proper supper. Inwardly he was reviewing his dinnertime diet guidelines, but that was mere habit these days as he had gotten very good at eyeballing it in the past year.

As he chopped up some tomatoes, turnip and carrots, he wondered idly about where his parents might have gotten to. Something similar to this had happened once or twice last year when Gran had fallen especially ill, so Dudley wasn't particularly worried, though it was a bit odd that they hadn't dropped any groceries off or called yet. He swept his vegetables into a pot and then diced up some chicken to go along with it, resolving to wait for the inevitable ring which would probably come the next morning at the earliest –Gran did live up in Edinburgh after all, which wasn't an easy drive for his dad to make on short notice.

Dudley spent about an hour in the kitchen, making sure his stew was simmering and then using the leftover vegetables in the fridge to mix up a salad that he could snack on later if he wanted to. It was true, he didn't exactly _love_ the diet, but he had committed himself to following it about halfway through the school year upon both seeing and feeling its positive effects on him. It was easier to keep up with at Smeltings, of course, but he was making an effort while at home and had convinced his mother that she and dad didn't have to go along with it this year if they didn't want to.

When the stew was finished and seasoned, Dudley decided to take advantage of his father's absence by taking his dinner into the living room with him and turning on the telly. His parents had different reasons for not liking it when he watched wrestling –for his mum it was that it was too violent, and his dad didn't like that he was watching an American program when "there were perfectly good ones set up around here". But Dudley was a boxer who had dabbled in a few wrestling tournaments, so of course he was interested in how foreign professionals did it (even if it was mostly staged). The tournaments eventually turned into reruns of M.A.S.H., and after he packaged up the leftovers and rinsed the few dishes he had accumulated, he switched on the News.

Nothing spectacular was happening in England so late at night, but there were a few stories carried over from the day before that had Dudley not known about Harry's... magic... he wouldn't have been able to explain them. It was only something he started to pay any mind to within the last year or so; sometimes Dudley felt _paranoid_ he was so aware of the effects magic could have on seemingly mundane objects, ever since the incident last summer. It had become –not a hobby –but a time waster of a sort, for Dudley to look around and make up an interesting spin on how magic could hurt him the next time he encountered it.

Soon both the telly and his unhealthy pastime lost their novelty, and it was getting late enough that Dudley decided to turn the box off, go around and lock all of the doors, and then tramp up the stairs to get ready to go to sleep. Staying up all night had lost its appeal after so many exhausted mornings in the Smelting's dorms –and as Dudley sank into his bed and relieved his sore feet, he could only think that he really was glad to be home.

Vvv

"_...I'm afraid that I have the duty of informing you that Vernon and Petunia Dursley died following a traffic accident yesterday afternoon."_

_The policeman standing with him in the living room was young, maybe in his mid twenties, and had dark skin offset by a pair of vibrantly blue glasses perched on his nose. His name was Connor Farley, and he looked as if he hadn't slept well in a very long time. Dudley's mind froze at Farley's words –each one individually intelligible and yet put together they made no sense –and his face had surely gone horribly pale, as within moments the officer was helping him sink heavily onto one of the nearest couches._

"_What –happened?" Dudley gasped, vision going blurry at the scenarios rushing through his mind. All of them ended in death; violent collision, fire from a gasoline transport, impact and blood, a hit and run, a pile up, his dad falling asleep at the wheel and his mum not able to steer-_

"_We're still investigating, but it appears... that your father ran a red light and collided with another car in the intersection of James and Somersby. Your parents and the other three victims were brought to West General Hospital to undergo extensive surgery." Farley answered promptly, his hand resting on one of Dudley's shoulders and helping to ground him. "At ten fifteen p.m. and twelve twenty eight a.m. respectively, your mother and father passed."_

"_But –they were –they were only headed to the grocer!" Dudley pleaded more to himself than the officer, eyes stinging and barely able to force it out around the lump in his throat. Farley's face shone with sympathy as Dudley broke down crying, great heaving gasps of air between words that spilled out like vomit alongside the tears. "When –When they weren't home I-I-I just –I just _thought_ they had gone to visit Aunt Marge! Or G-Gran! They should've been _back_ by now!"_

"_An officer was sent to your Aunt's home in Keswick. I... I'm so sorry for your loss."_

_Dudley didn't answer, he just stared at his slippers and brought his hands up to cradle his head, shoulder's shuddering with the force of his sobs and hiccups. He was crying far too hard to speak now –had he been even a year younger, he might have accused Farley of lying about this –but it couldn't be anything except the truth and so his tears didn't lessen. In his mind he went over and over the last time he had seen them; the last time they had spoken, the night before when his dad had clapped him on the back before heading up to bed and his mum had put out a cup of tea for him before she followed her husband upstairs, the three of them having finished dinner the hour before._

_How could something like this have _happened_? Dudley choked back his urge to curse and gripped the ends of his sleeves tightly, feeling something foreign and burning try to force its way out of his stomach before he stamped that down in a panic, thinking he was about to be sick. How could he have been so oblivious and then have his entire world crumble in on itself so suddenly?_

_Dudley didn't know how long he and Farley sat in the living room that morning, but eventually the phone rang in the next room, jarring Dudley out of his spiralling disbelief and shock enough that he went to answer it. There wasn't a clear voice in his ear at first, only a couple of half sobs, but then the person on the other end took a deep breath and-_

"Dudley, it's time for you to throw the first handful."

Dudley brought his eyes up slowly from his shoes to look at the woman standing in front of him. Ms. Brier had been assigned as his and Aunt Marge's case worker, and she was currently staring at him with what might have been concern, pale face a jarring contrast against the black of her blouse. Around him swam a crowd of others dressed in all black attire, and in front of him lay the gaping hole where his parents' bodies lay in their coffins, shadows from the late afternoon sun making it look as dark as the surrounding mass.

"Dudley." Aunt Marge said, half encouraging and half impatient. Dudley took a deep breath to steady himself and lessen the constricting feeling in his throat, and then he stepped forward and walked over to the large pile of dirt sitting beside the tombstone. The earth was cold in his clammy hands, and when he tossed it into the pit it landed on –his father's? mother's? –casket with a dull sounding thud.

He stared numbly a moment longer as the funeral director called for the full burial to begin. The silly ritual was supposed to offer comfort to the one who performed it, but throwing a clod of dirt onto a pair of coffins without so much as a parting word –it didn't mean anything, really. It all still seemed so unreal, like he was walking through a particularly bad fever dream just on the brink of waking up, but not quite there yet. When he looked back at the slowly dispersing mourners, two people stuck out to him –Piers, who was staring back at him in worry even as his mother ushered him away; and Aunt Marge, who wasn't looking at him at all as she spoke quietly with Ms. Brier.

The wake was scheduled so it happened right after the funeral; according to his aunt it was a bit non-traditional but there was no other way for it to go. Dudley didn't think he could stand even another hour being looked at with pity or told 'it will get better eventually'. He stayed with the burial men until there was only a headstone and a level patch of bare earth left for him to see of those he loved most in the world, and once even they had left, he made his way into the funeral home and down a deserted corridor.

For the first time in his life, Dudley envied Harry tremendously. His cousin had never really known Lily or James Potter for all he supposedly resembled the latter, and thusly hadn't had to experience this awful, terribly unfair feeling of emptiness. His cousin was still at his weirdo school, and didn't have to deal with concerned case workers or children's officers, didn't have to see Aunt Marge get further and further away with each day –Harry didn't even have to face the fact that Aunt Marge probably wasn't going to take them. Scornfully, Dudley even imagined that his cousin might jump for joy upon finding out about Vernon and Petunia's deaths; in his heart of hearts, Dudley felt that _whatever_ the other boy felt would be completely understandable.

Dudley walked down another hallway that he suspected would take him near the main room, where the wake was currently underway. Out of the corner of his eye, a lilac shimmer by an old suit of armour caught his attention –he stopped to get a closer look, but there wasn't anything even close to that colour nearby. Sighing and thinking that it must have been a trick of the light, he was about to get on his way when he caught sight of his aunt and case worker standing down at other end of the hall –and for whatever reason he decided to duck into a side room when he saw that they hadn't noticed him yet.

"-imply cannot, though it pains me to say." His aunt said, just far enough away that he had to concentrate to hear her –she sounded like she had been crying again. "Supporting two teenagers in my current home isn't f-feasible. And with the Potter boy so out-of-control, I'd worry for my own safety every day he was there."

Dudley's stomach lurched and he nearly gave himself away with his impulse to contradict something –_anything_ –that his aunt was saying, to get her to change her mind. But-

"If you truly can't, then I suppose there isn't anything I can say." Ms. Brier hummed sympathetically, sounding as if she were shuffling some papers around in her arms. "Our file says that the two of them can't be split up... at least, not until they come of age, so that option is out. You've mentioned that you have extended family that will be able to take custody?"

"My father was the last Dursley, and he is long gone. But yes, mother told me once that she left a large family behind in order to marry my father –this was before her mind went, of course." Marge replied, blowing her nose before continuing. "And I'm afraid Potter is the last of dear Petunia's extended family as well, such a shame that-"

Dudley couldn't bear to listen any longer; he covered his ears and slid down the doorframe to sit on the floor, feeling dizzy and nauseous and feverish all at once. There had been a small part of him that hoped he had been wrong to think his aunt wouldn't take them, but now there was no denying it. Dudley's throat tightened again and he shuddered with the effort of keeping his renewed sobs silent –he didn't want either of them to know that he had been listening.

Dudley couldn't even put this solely on Harry's shoulders –if there was something in their file then there must have been something in either of their parents' wills to have put it there. If that was true (although Dudley couldn't think of a reason _why_ it might be like that), there wasn't anything that could be done about it. All Dudley had left to dwell on were these mysterious family members of his Gran's that she left behind years ago for his Grandad; and to tell the truth, Dudley never once thought that he possessed any other family than his Gran and Aunt Marge.

Checking quickly to see that his aunt and the case worker had left, Dudley decided he'd been away long enough that he could take whatever the wake had in store for him. He pulled open the door, and hoped that he wouldn't end up in some group home or orphanage if the extended family wasn't able to take him and Harry both. Surely if they weren't able to, his aunt would reconsider; they wouldn't even live with her for three quarters of the year!

"Dud?" Came a small voice from behind him in the hallway –Dudley jumped and wiped hastily at his eyes, turning quickly to see that it was Piers, standing just outside the main room's door looking incredibly uncomfortable in his ill-fitting dress shirt and tie. But just the sight of him made Dudley feel the smallest bit less alone; and he could forget for the moment about the uncertain future while they were together.

Vvv

When word came from Ms. Brier that Gran's family had agreed to take custody of both Dudley and Harry... Dudley didn't quite register the information. His inability to get a proper night's sleep coupled with the chill creeping into his mindset was beginning to take its toll on his concentration and ability to function. Throughout the process of child services vetting them for suitability, then the court appearance which he didn't attend and the subsequent legal documents Ms. Brier had them filling out, Dudley felt like he was wading through thick oil.

There was a constant churning in his stomach, a burning deep in his chest and a headache plaguing him at all hours, and the only times he could remain even remotely normal were when he was about to fall asleep and the few times he had seen Piers after the wake. The routine he was in felt more like a rut with each passing day, and he was only aware enough to notice things like the lack of questioning on Harry's whereabouts, or his own dread when he thought of leaving Privet Drive.

It was two weeks after his parent's deaths and roughly eight days following their burial that his trance-like state was shaken by the arrival to number four of one 'representative to Giuseppe Bovino II', by the name of Orazio Gaspori.

Ms. Brier and Aunt Marge had been with him before Orazio had arrived, to explain that the Italian was a close associate of Dudley's great-grandfather –that being the man who had agreed to take them into his home. He had been inspected separately from Giuseppe by child services and had been given the approval to come to England to pick Harry and Dudley up in Giuseppe's stead, as the older man was something of a business manager and couldn't leave Italy at the moment. Dudley had accepted this explanation as gracefully as one could imagine (it didn't even come close to magic) and had then readied himself to meet Orazio once they had caught sight of an unassuming dark green car pulling into the drive.

Orazio was a short, striking man who looked to be around sixty years old and walked with a heavy limp assisted by a dull black cane. He wore black trousers and dress shoes, with a lavender button up underneath a grey vest and tie, and had a pair of bright white rectangular glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. His skin was dark brown with slightly lighter coloured splotches dotting his jaw line, and he kept his wavy grey hair pinned behind his ears along with a cleanly trimmed moustache. He'd come up the walkway at a leisurely pace, carrying a briefcase in his free hand; once he had been let into the house by Marge, Dudley heard him introduce himself and then smoothly break away to converse with Ms. Brier in the kitchen. By the time they finished with their business, Dudley's heart-burn(?) had subsided enough that he could think straight, and so his meeting with Orazio in the living room was one of the first events since his parent's accident which stuck out in his mind.

"My name is Orazio Gaspori, I'm a close friend of your great-grandfather." He said in a deep, moderately accented voice, smiling slightly and shaking Dudley's hand. "It's wonderful to meet you. We were all heartbroken when we heard the news... my deepest condolences for what has happened."

"Th-Thank you." Dudley answered quietly, stamping down his urge to cry at the reminder. "It's nice to meet you as well..."

Orazio tilted his head and his eyes narrowed somewhat, and briefly Dudley felt as if the old man was staring directly into his most private thoughts. "Are you feeling sick at all? You appear a little under the weather to me..."

"Uh, actually I've been a bit out of it ever since..." Dudley admitted, cheeks burning and blood rushing in his ears. "It's not a big deal, really. I just need some sleep, maybe some aspirin –I used to get like this all the time when I was smaller, so I'm sort of used to it..."

Orazio looked perturbed at Dudley's reassurances. "Well," He eventually settled on saying. "If you find it getting to be too troublesome to bear, let me know, yes? This sounds something similar to what Giuseppe's children used to suffer from, so I might-"

"Mr. Gaspori? There's something I want to talk to you about..." Aunt Marge called from the door to the kitchen, interrupting whatever the man was going to say about Dudley's... grand-aunts and uncles? Orazio pat Dudley's hand gently and went to speak with her, leaving Dudley to feel queasy and vaguely certain as he sat on the couch that he had missed something important just then.

Vvv

The morning that Aunt Marge left Privet Drive was also the day that Orazio and Dudley would be driving into London to pick Harry up from King's Cross Station, and maybe due to the busy hours ahead Dudley found it near unbearably difficult to drag himself out of bed and into the shower. He shambled out of his bedroom in a trance –his breath rattled in his chest and his eyes burned in the early morning light as if they had been salted. He nearly fell asleep the moment his aching limbs touched the spray of hot water, and it was only the strong smell of his shampoo that prevented him from doing just that as his shower went on; that and the fact that he turned the knob from scalding to freezing for the last thirty seconds in an attempt to shock himself back into awareness.

The tactic worked well –almost too well in fact, as Dudley looked into the mirror and for the first time really saw what he looked like to others lately. His skin was paler than he had ever seen it before, and pockmarked with splotches of acne (an affliction he hadn't suffered from since before the diet started) and there were light purple bags underneath his bloodshot eyes. He seemed thinner, but it was not a healthy look; instead he was reminded of Harry's scrawny countenance from before he had started going to his weird school. And underneath his sickly visage, Dudley's insides felt even worse. His head throbbed, his stomach burned up and into his throat now, and his fingers shook even when he tried to still them.

_No wonder I keep getting looks from the neighbours... _Dudley thought, scrubbing at his face with a washcloth in an effort to try and feel a little less like he was about to vomit. _I'd stare too if I saw someone like this out walking around..._

"Dudley, Mr. Gaspori is here!" His aunt yelled from the kitchen. "Are you nearly ready?"

"I'll be down in... I'll be down soon!" Dudley called back, though he was quite sure that he wasn't feeling up to going into London. The past few days hadn't been very kind to him –Orazio and his aunt had spent the majority of it packing away the most important things around the house to either be shipped to Marge's or to Italy later on, and Dudley had been left to divide and box up his own possessions, and those things of his parents' he wanted to keep. Alone in his bedroom those days, sorting through every item and judging whether or not it was important enough to bring along right away, it had completely driven home that he was leaving. Even the bathroom hadn't been spared from the gloomy assertion –there were boxes next to the shower and a bundle of clean towels tied up neatly with a length of rope, all of it ready to be shipped out over the next few weeks by the movers Giuseppe Bovino had hired.

Ten minutes later there was a knock at the bathroom door and Orazio's concerned voice filtered through, asking him what was wrong. Dudley gave one last cough into the toilet and stood, wiping his mouth off on a spare towel and flushing the evidence away as quickly as he was able.

"Oh." The man said as soon as Dudley answered the door, eyes focused on something near Dudley's chin. "Dudley, how long have you been feeling this way?"

It took a minute for the question to process properly. "It's really not a big-" The look on Orazio's face stopped him in his tracks, so instead he looked away and confessed. "The –the day of the funeral. It's been off and on ever since..."

Orazio's face didn't change, but somehow Dudley got the impression that he had said something worrying. "Have you been feeling a burning in your chest at all? Have you ever coughed up blood before now?"

_Blood?! _ Dudley wiped at his chin where Orazio was staring and his hand came away streaked with red. "I don't –this hasn't... I've been aching all over and there's been that burning but –what's going on?"

"I –wait here, I'll go and fetch something that will help." Orazio said quickly, turning and heading back down the stairs with a speed that Dudley hadn't thought him capable of. Dudley turned back to the mirror and saw that he had failed to wipe off a great streak of dark red from his jaw line, and hastily picked up his towel to scrub it away lest Aunt Marge come up the stairs and catch sight of it. He still felt nauseous even after emptying his stomach, and as Orazio's distinctive three-thud walk resounded back up the staircase, he hoped that whatever the old man was retrieving might put an end to it.

"Here." Orazio said simply, leaning tiredly against the doorframe and holding a small cup of tea out to him. Dudley took it and looked it over carefully; it was probably normal black tea, but it had an odd orange shimmer to it, like how gasoline looked floating in a puddle in the sun. Orazio held up a clear, aspirin-type medication bottle, with orange pills that looked like ¼" sized fish eggs inside. The label was similarly orange coloured, and although the majority of it was written in Italian Dudley noticed that on the bottom there was a square containing the words **Patent no. 182****Bovino**.

"It says it's a Bovino patent?" Dudley asked, trying to decipher some of the other words on the front, only able to make out numbers in what looked to be the recommended dosage section.

"The Bovino are reputable inventors, in all manner of fields." Orazio said, a glimmer of pride shining in his eyes for a moment. "I dissolved two of these into the tea, and you should have two more if you still feel the burning in an hour. I know you can't read it yet, but I promise it will do you good. Your symptoms are exactly as what your great-uncle Cosimo used to suffer around your age, as well as similar to what a multitude of your extended cousins have come down with over the years."

"...you're sure it'll help?" Dudley asked a bit sceptically, the look of the tea not exactly inspiring confidence in him at the moment.

"I assure you. The Bovino are well known in Italy for many things, one of which being that they practically run the research ward at the _Sette Fiamme del Cielo dell'Ospedale di Italia_." Dudley wasn't sure what that translated into, but it did sound impressive; he swallowed the tea in two quick gulps and handed the cup back to Orazio, shuddering slightly at the cooling trail it left down the back of his throat. "These translate roughly to Balance Assisters; they're based on subtle chemicals in the blood stream that can be thrown out of whack by extreme stress or similar, eventually it weakens the skin lining in certain areas and makes bleeding common. Trying to develop a better treatment is probably why so many Bovino end up working at the _Fiamme dell'Ospedale_; unfortunately it's a bit of a family affliction you seem to have inherited."

Dudley nodded along, and to his surprise he already felt immensely less like he was about to die and quite a bit more like a human being. Orazio went back downstairs to tell Marge that he would be along in a few minutes, and while Dudley again switched shirts he was acutely aware of the burning sensation crawling back down into the pit of his stomach and then _disappearing_ for the first time in nearly three weeks.

Upon entering the kitchen he was greeted by the two adults sitting at the table, but what he really noticed was the plate of eggs, toast and bran cereal waiting for him at the spare seat along with a tall glass of milk. Suddenly the fact that he had barely eaten the last few days came rushing into his mind, and he tucked into the meal with a ravenousness he was unused to, but felt was entirely justified. By the time he was finished Aunt Marge was ready to leave, and although it made his heart ache it wasn't a full body experience as it had been the past few weeks.

"Dudders, you simply must call me every so often, alright?" His aunt said tearfully, hugging him around the shoulders and rocking back and forth on her heels. "If you ever want to come for a visit, simply ask dear, I'm always available. Let me know right away if you decide you'll be going back to Smeltings and I'll send your things along as soon as I can, alright?"

"Okay, Aunt Marge." Dudley replied quietly, squeezing one last time before she pulled away and bent down to pick up her handbag. The next few minutes were filled with many loud calls of goodbye and hand waving, and then her car was gone around the corner and Dudley was left standing on the front porch with Orazio.

"...well, if you're feeling better," Orazio said, breaking the long silence. "Why don't we get ready to head out? Your cousin's train comes in at noon and it's about eleven already. You can have a rest on the way."

Dudley sighed, but had to admit that his ails and headache had subsided enough that he could function like a regular person, no excuses. He pushed his hair (in need of a cut) out of his eyes and retreated back into the foyer, and while Orazio was busy locking up the back door Dudley made a quick trip up to his room to grab his bag and runners. Once he had pulled them on and checked to see that he had his wallet and keys with him, he followed his temporary guardian out of the house and to the car.

Vvv

Dudley felt profoundly awkward waiting nearby the spot where he thought the entrance to Harry's platform was, accompanied by a man he barely knew and looking rightly as if he hadn't slept for a week. It was ten minutes after noon hour, and any minute Harry would be rounding the bend and signalling Dudley's unconscious countdown to exactly six hours from now, when they would board the plane at Heathrow and leave the UK for Italy.

Orazio was sitting on the bench serenely, arms crossed and smiling but giving off an alert vibe, probably trying to spot his mysterious second charge before Dudley could. The old man was funny like that, Dudley was beginning to notice –open and relaxed but at the same time observant and as secretive as a politician. As for himself, Dudley was feeling far too restless to sit, and the energy was proving to be difficult for him to handle as one moment he would be fine with leaning against the bench and the next he would be walking over to the arrivals board, doubly frustrated because he knew that Harry's train wouldn't be on it.

"Is... that him there?" Orazio asked slowly, using his cane to jab towards the tail end of a significant crowd that had come around the nearest divide just then. It was indeed; Harry was pushing a trolley laden with a trunk and owl in their direction, surrounded by what looked to be the entirety of the redheaded family who had picked him up through the fireplace last summer. Dudley felt himself tense up against his will upon seeing a familiar pair of stocky, flame haired twins, drawing a concerned look from Orazio that he pointedly ignored instead of explaining.

Harry noticed Orazio and Dudley just as they waved him over, confusion briefly showing as he stopped about ten feet away until he was pulled back into the group by a tall boy and brown haired girl. Some unknown emotion seared the centre of Dudley's chest as Harry was enveloped in an embrace by a stout redheaded woman and squeezed profusely; Dudley looked away while Harry said his goodbyes, unable to hear much of it due to the noise of the passing trains and people but still not wanting to watch the long hugs and farewells that were currently taking place. Dudley saw the twins (the ones that had left behind that _stupid_ _candy_) pat Harry on the back and thank him fervently, and then the group departed as quickly as they had arrived, Harry waving after them. It was only after his cousin was finished waving that Dudley got a proper look at him, and he was... well, he seemed terribly worn down. He was paler than Dudley remembered, and twitchier; and there was something in the set of his stance that gave Dudley reason to pause before saying anything.

"...who are _you_?" Harry asked, disregarding Dudley altogether and turning untrusting eyes on the old man before him.

"You must be Harry. I'm glad to meet you finally." Orazio said smoothly after a beat of staring, pushing himself to his feet and holding out his free hand. Harry shook it after a long second of inspection. "I am Orazio Gaspori; do you need any help with your luggage?"

"Er –no. No, I've got them. Where's Uncle Vernon?" Harry stuttered, completely out of his depth –Dudley coughed painfully and shoved his hands into his pockets, hating Harry's blissful ignorance in that moment more than anything else that had happened in the past few weeks. He hated it more than Aunt Marge for abandoning them, more than Giuseppe Bovino for living so far away, more than whatever had made his father run that red light-

"Can we just get going?" He asked, cutting off his thoughts. He especially hated that this was his life now, that he and Harry were so similar and yet so different in all the same ways. "We can explain on the way home."

"Yes, it is something that should be discussed in privacy." Orazio said diplomatically when Harry looked ready to retort. "The car is this way?"

Harry looked between Orazio's imploring expression and Dudley's fast retreating back for a few seconds before ultimately deciding to follow, pushing the trolley along at the same pace as Orazio could walk. Dudley was waiting for them at the car, and was quiet while getting the trunk and owl loaded inside except to tell Harry to take the front seat.

It was after about five minutes of driving that Orazio decided to break the news to Harry in the bluntest way he could have possibly chosen. "Your aunt and uncle were killed following a car crash on the ninth of June."

Dudley ached, but still glanced up to see Harry's reaction –or rather, his lack of one. The slightly younger boy had gone completely still, his expression blank, and he didn't show any signs of responding to Orazio's statement either positively or negatively.

"I am your and Dudley's temporary guardian until you arrive at the home of Giuseppe Bovino II, who is my boss and Dudley's great-grandfather. In light of Marjorie's inability, he has agreed to take custody of the both of you until you reach your majority." Orazio went on. "It's a bit of a short notice for you, but we will be going back to Privet Drive to collect the luggage to take right away, and then be leaving on a flight for Italy tonight at six o'clock."

"O-Oh." Harry mumbled, face still blank but now considerably paler than how it had been only a few minutes ago.

"I do hope you find it accommodating while you are there –Italy is a beautiful country this time in the year, and where you'll be staying in Riva –Riva del Garda –doesn't disappoint." Orazio began talking on, presumably trying to fill the awkward silence in the car and maybe distract from the news he had only just delivered. "About seventy percent of the entire Bovino family live there for most of the time, with the rest either living away due to work or living close by. Giuseppe's niece Ottavio also cares for a number of displaced children, which means there will be a lot of people around for the next few months while school isn't in session..."

Dudley settled down in the back seat, letting Orazio's voice lull him away from thinking about his parents, mentally going over the last few things he needed to pack once they returned to number four so that he could still meet up with Piers one last time.

Vvv

They had only been inside number four around fifteen minutes, and while Dudley puttered along in his room Orazio was downstairs on his laptop, doing some last minute work in an effort to have as little business to attend to as possible upon their arrival in Italy. Harry had sequestered himself away in his room as soon as they had brought his trunk inside, and hadn't made so much as a peep until Dudley's door swung open abruptly and said wizard stormed in, looking paranoid and gripping his wand so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Dudley jolted in surprise and focused on the wooden stick immediately, backing away from the fast approaching teenager with a speed he seldom needed to use and pressing his back into the windowsill in an effort to make as much distance as possible between them. Harry stalled in his crusade halfway through the room, staring disconcertingly at Dudley as if he were trying to figure out who he was looking at.

"Wha-at do you wan-want?" Dudley demanded shakily, eyes trained on Harry's profile in an attempt to glean what the perturbed looking teen would do –where he would point the wand next. Harry opened his mouth, paused for a long minute, and then slowly stowed his wand away in his back pocket; an action that caused Dudley to relax unconsciously even while his mind was still focused on his cousin's hands.

"Where are Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia really?" Harry asked, scowling at Dudley through his bangs, accentuating the bags underneath his eyes that looked like bruises. "There's –there's no way they could've died. They're just mu... it's safer out here. What the hell is really going on?"

"What are you –Orazio already _told you._" Dudley replied scathingly, tensing his shoulders pre-emptively. "Th-They're _dead. _Dad ran a red light, he hit a car going through the intersection, and he and Mum both kicked it on the operating table." Harry shook his head slowly and went ashen coloured.

"No, they can't... they aren't involved, they should've been safe here. Dudley, if someone's cast some sort of spell on you..."

Dudley's temper flared brightly, and without the wand in between them there was nothing stopping him from striding forward and clocking Harry in the chin with his fist. "Do you not _get it_?! My Dad nearly killed three people and in the end actually _did _kill both Mum and himself! They're never coming back, they're gone forever now! Yeah we're not _bloody_ _freaks_ like you, but that doesn't mean that goddamn _shit _like this doesn't still happen every day!" Harry cradled his jaw, looking up at Dudley in disbelief as the older teen ranted on. "While you were off at your stupid boarding school I've been having the worst three weeks of my life! I had to bury my own Mum and Dad, Aunt Marge refuses to take us in, we're going to live with some great-grandfather I've barely heard of let alone ever met, and I'm leaving all of my friends behind because of it! How dare you say we should've been _safe _here, that there might be some sort of _freak_ _magic_ that made me feel like this! _Get out of my room_!"

Harry sucked in a panicked breath and bolted, moving so fast out the door that his wand slipped from his back pocket and clattered to the floor. Dudley didn't miss a beat before he had picked it up and hurled it as hard as he could into the hallway, slamming the door behind his cousin with so much force that the adjacent walls shuddered. Seething and feeling about to cry, Dudley turned back to his carry on and powered through the final bit of his packing in a blur. He didn't stay long enough to really take in the sight of his bare mattress laden with boxes and bags –instead he pulled his shoes on and stomped down the staircase, curtly telling Orazio how long he would be out before practically flying out of the front door.

Piers was waiting for him in the Martha Bondar Park off of Heather Lane, kicking at the ground while sitting quietly on one of the few swings the park still had. Dudley approached the swing set quickly, mind hazy but for the frustration that Harry had stoked into a nearly uncontrollable blaze, and he saw Piers briefly straighten in his seat before turning around to fix him with an expectant look.

"Dud, what's going on?" Piers asked worriedly, standing and moving closer so he could look directly into Dudley's face –or _up _into his face more aptly. Dudley had the sudden urge to both punch Piers' lights out and hug him at the same time –but he didn't want that to be the entirety of their last hours together. Piers continued to look at him with a concerned grin, trying to appear relaxed; somehow Dudley's cloud of indignation was pierced through enough that he paused to take in his friend. Piers was slouching heavily and looked thinner than when Dudley had seen him last, and though he was smiling there was something in the set of his face...

"...FUCK!" Dudley yelled as indecision won out, and he kicked the nearest pole with all his might before taking a few calming breaths. "Let's just –let's go and get some food, or something –let's go now. I don't feel –I don't _want _to talk about this right now."

Piers' demeanour didn't change, but Dudley knew that he had made the right decision even if he was still irritated over what Harry had insinuated. There was just some sort of feeling that it was the best option he could have chosen –if not for himself, then for Piers at the very least. Dudley forcibly stamped down the rest of his anger in favour of asking his friend where they should go to get their 'last meal' –in the end they headed to one of the local diners that they hadn't yet gotten around to vandalizing and ordered their personal favourites.

They had been sitting for nearly an hour, their meals long wolfed down and the more neutral conversation topics exhausted, when Piers jolted minutely and somehow managed to catch the entirety of Dudley's attention with the small motion. They stared at each other for a good while in silence, and then Piers averted his eyes and frowned at the tabletop.

"I'm going to miss you, Dud." He admitted, the bridge of his nose slowly turning a deep, bruised looking red. "I mean, I knew things were going to change but –but _Italy_ is so far off..."

"We can still... call. Talk on the phone, if you want." Dudley offered, throat going dry. "I'll talk to my g-great-grandfather, see if I can get a calling card or something. It'll only be till..."

"Till September? Dudley, I don't think-" Piers stopped suddenly. "I-I'm... not going to have a roommate anymore, am I?"

"..." Dudley didn't reply immediately. Inwardly his mood was sinking, going over the conversation he and Orazio had briefly had about Giuseppe's expectations of his continuing education. "...neither will I."

"Your aunt's a bint." Piers muttered. "I'd say come stay with me, but that's not a good idea."

"Your _dad's_ a bint." Dudley shot back, making Piers chuckle wetly. "I'll call in a week. I'll call _every _week even if I have to pay for every one of them. And if anything happens, tell me, okay? I don't want to find out the next time I see you, like last time."

"I will. But you have to tell me if those Bovino do anything, yeah? _I _don't want to find out like last time, either."

Dudley nodded in agreement, and then glanced at his watch; they had now been out for almost ninety minutes, and the time was quickly approaching when Dudley had told Orazio he would be back at number four. "Want to walk me back to Privet?"

Piers sighed deeply and stood up, pushing their bill to the edge of the table and waiting for Dudley to follow. "Sure, I'll be the gentleman this time. I'm not going to be paying those long distance charges after all."

"You prick." Dudley said, smiling a bit –and he followed his friend out of the diner and off to the last place he would see him for a long, long time.

Vvv

At five o'clock, exactly an hour before their flight left the terminal at six o'clock that evening but only a short time after Dudley hugged Piers goodbye, the three mismatched travelers piled their luggage into the back of Orazio's car and headed away from Privet Drive for the last time, on their way into London's Heathrow airport. At Harry's assurance while Dudley had been out, Hedwig had been given a letter with the Bovino main house's address written on it and been sent on her way so as to meet them when they arrived. Dudley didn't much care about where the bird had gone –though it was nice that it wasn't sitting with him in the backseat and staring at him –so he contented himself with listening to the radio as they drove.

It didn't take them very long to find a parking spot, since Orazio simply rented a car for the duration of his stay in Britain and only needed to return it to the airport drop-off before they left the country. Once they had unpacked the trunk of all bags they were promptly moved onto a shuttle heading for Heathrow, and upon their arrival had been caught up in the general whirlwind of check ins and hustle which all first time fliers fall victim to. Their bags had been taken, their carry ons weighed, and with fifteen minutes to spare they had passed security and made their way to their departure gate to wait to board the plane.

"There is a stopover in Munich for a few hours, unfortunately. On such short notice we weren't able to organize a one way flight to Verona." Orazio informed them once they were seated, leaning his chin onto the grip of his cane. "But we will be meeting with a co-worker of mine for the final flight, so that is something good from the delay. Tommaso is returning from a long trip on business, and while we wait we can get some errands done I should think."

"How long will it be before we get there?" Dudley asked, feeling hungry even after his and Piers' late lunch –those 'balancers' really much have changed something, though since they had left Little Whinging it felt almost like they were beginning to wear off. "I –uh, don't travel well, so I want to brace myself?"

From the corner of his eye, Dudley saw Harry twitch minutely and a moment later mumble that he was going to check the Arrivals Board; Dudley and Orazio could still see him from their seats but had effectively been abandoned for the time being.

"Ah... it's about an hour and a half to Munich." Orazio said, making an _almost_ apologetic expression as he kept his attention on Dudley's cousin. "We'll be waiting at the airport for three hours –Tommaso's flight gets in at about seven forty five –and then it is another hour to Verona. From there Tommaso is going to drive with us to Riva, which is an hour and fifteen minutes out."

"It seems really far." Dudley said, making Orazio chuckle.

"Well, you've never left the United Kingdom, so it might be. But when half of the children the Bovino take in go to the _Scuola Italiana di Armonia _in Rome and one of our closest associates are based in Palermo, it makes everything seem very smaller very quickly."Orazio sighed. "I am going to fetch Harry; I think we'll be boarding soon."

Vvv

"Come along, no time to waste now."

Orazio led the pair of teenagers through the bustling airport in Munich, one hand holding his briefcase and the other making sure his cane stuck close to his side and out of the way of passersby. They had arrived in Germany only a few short minutes ago, a bit delayed due to a storm brewing over the English Channel, and upon disembarking Orazio had handed most of their bags over to the check in counter for later, and then shuffled them along to get a few errands done during the hours they had to wait.

Firstly they had gone to the nearest barbershop to their gate, and while Harry had initially been unsure about getting it cut at all (he had left it chin length all year), the sudden realization that he could ask for it to be done in any way he wanted had pushed him quickly into agreeing. Dudley had simply wanted the sides and back shaved down with the top trimmed and parted, but Harry had hemmed and hawed for long enough that after a certain amount of time Orazio had sighed and told Harry to 'get a move on' as it were. In the end he had left the fringe long enough to reach his eyebrows and had gotten the rest of it cut close to his head; he had appeared a little dazed at the speed it had happened with, but Orazio had ushered them out again and so he had no time to dwell on it.

With that out of the way, they had next stopped at Tessuto Colori; a small clothing shop situated next to the only optometrist in the airport, sporting a number of clean suits and tasteful dresses on the mannequins in its windows. Orazio had paused before actually heading inside, and Dudley had been about to ask if there was anything wrong when a jovial voice called out Orazio's name from across the hallway.

The man who suddenly appeared through the crowd was tall, hunched over, and bony as a twig, with khaki coloured, sagging skin, dark brown eyes and hair, and a raised scar bisecting his left eyebrow that lead to a severed ear. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and black dress pants with a navy blue sweater vest, and had a hearing aid poking out of the ear he still possessed. Clapping a suddenly exasperated looking Orazio on the shoulder and loudly saying something in Italian, he turned his attention to Dudley and Harry with the single minded intensity of a cat that had spotted a bird in the garden.

"Ah, you two must be Dudley and Harry! My name is Tommaso Nespola, your great-grandfather's _Pioggia, _it's very good to meet you!" He said, just loud enough that he received a few winces and glares from passersby, and though his form was bent from age he still managed to give off an 'unrepentantly energetic' impression. "Did you choose that haircut yourself Dudley, or did Orazio suggest it to you?"

"I didn't tell him to get it, Tommaso, it was a coincidence." Orazio said, leaning a bit more heavily on his cane.

"What a coincidence it is, then! You know, it's an incredibly similar style to how Giuse's hair was when I first met him. And Harry!" The other boy jolted in surprise as Tommaso's attention swivelled to him in the blink of an eye. "I'll be your guide for a little while once we reach Riva, so if there's anything you need or want to ask about, don't be shy! You can talk to me as little or as much as you wish."

"Uh –okay." Harry forced out, looking completely out of his depth; despite himself, Dudley couldn't help but feel somewhat similar.

"If we are ready, why don't we get started here, yes?" Orazio interrupted, tapping Tommaso on the shin with his cane. "We still have that appointment."

"Of course, of course, Orazio, you know best." Tommaso replied easily, moving closer to the storefront. "I'll head in now with Dudley, you take Harry. We'll switch once we're done."

"Mm. Alright, Harry, it's just next door that we are heading..."

Dudley was once again consumed by awkwardness upon being left with this odd acquaintance of his great-grandfather, a feeling he somehow knew that he was either going to have to get used to or get over quickly. Tommaso seemed to deflate inwards for a brief moment, as if steeling himself for something, but a split second later his eyes were bright and he beckoned for Dudley to follow him into the clothes shop.

"_Mr. __Nespola_." A subdued, higher pitched voice greeted in German from the counter upon the door closing behind them –it was a young man perhaps only just finished his schooling, who had sandy blond hair and was wearing a tailored, maroon coloured sales jacket. "_Here for your eight o'clock__?_"

"_Yes, that would be it!_ This young man is in need of the standard fare I usually come for. According colours of course, though nothing too extravagant –it's only for the dinners after all." Tommaso said, stepping closer to the young man to pat his shoulder. "Dudley, this is Gilbert Lavoie, a former ward of the family."

"...well, doesn't this look like a carbon copy of a young Donato." Gilbert murmured in English, studying Dudley with bored eyes that glinted from the red of his jacket in the low light of the shop. "Just who _have_ you brought in to see me?"

"One of Donato's extended cousins, as it happens. Gilbert, meet Dudley Dursley." Dudley turned a little red under Gilbert's scrutiny, but dutifully shook his hand nonetheless.

Gilbert nodded once, already reaching for the tape measure at his waist. "Hm, I was thinking as much. Now, let's go with oranges and some greens, with gold accents and black..."

Dudley's fitting took shorter than they had projected, as Gilbert had an easy time picking out items that both appealed to his internal standards and were approved of by both Dudley and Tommaso. Dudley had initially been a tad reticent on his own preferences, as he hadn't been too keen on being outfitted like a doll in the first place, but Tommaso had curbed that inclination rather well by likening the clothes to a welcoming gift, as it were.

"_A good first impression will soften a lifetime of bad interactions." Gilbert had imparted quietly when the issue had been brought up. "Like it or not, a lot of people know who the Bovino are, so you should at the very least dress acceptably, and the items you wear should be those that you like." He had then eyed Dudley's oversized t-shirt with something akin to disgust. "And if you dress like some of the young people I see around, no offense meant, but this will do everyone a favour."_

But anyway, by the time Dudley exited the shop with his three bags, he felt as if he had done enough shopping for the entire coming year. He now owned a pair of black oxfords, three pairs of black slacks, two black ties, a single golden tie tack with matching cufflinks, three undershirts, a black leather belt, a simple black suit jacket, and seven different shirts. It was the shirts that had actually taken the longest out of anything –two of them were embroidered dress shirts and five were for casual wear –and all of them were different though still adhered to whatever 'according colours' meant to Tommaso and Gilbert. The embroidered pair were intended for more formal affairs and had been taken from Gilbert's 'Erklären' line; they were both burnt orange, but also had metallic green thread lining the seams and accenting them in other ways, such as small leaves on the cuffs. The other five were all made of Princeton orange, maybe varying slightly in cut and shade but all remaining solid with only one of them having a striped pattern, in Persian orange.

Dudley was glad to be done with it, and silently ignored Harry as the younger teen brushed past him out of the door to the optometrist. Orazio was sitting on one of the chairs in the waiting room, and waved him over at the same time he was approached by a store clerk.

Dudley hadn't realized that he was going to be getting an eye test done today but that was exactly what was happening, and within a few minutes he had been ushered into the back of the empty store and sat behind a rather odd contraption that he only knew about because he had seen them on television. It was a bit of a long process, with a lot of repeated questions and frustration on Dudley's part, but eventually everything had been tested for and written down, and he had been brought back into the front part of the store to choose his frames.

He needed reading glasses.

"You'll want something that will go with anything, so I wouldn't recommend bright or flashy colours." Orazio advised, picking up several frames at a time but putting them back just as quickly, occasionally keeping a pair for their little tray. "Luckily you don't have to wear them all the time like Harry does, but that doesn't mean you should be any less considering. Here, try these."

Dudley found a tray laden with about eight pairs of reading glasses placed into his hands, and after a brief moment of orientation went to do as Orazio had told him. In the end he found three he liked and picked the two he liked the most, one being a full frame done in dark brown and the other being a rimless pair in black.

The appointment over and the glasses ordered, Orazio and Dudley made their way back to Tessuto Colori, where they found that Harry had managed to settle on everything but was muttering somewhat angrily about the colours that Gilbert had picked for him. Dudley took a look at what had already been approved of by Tommaso; a pair of brown and dark grey monk strap shoes, a brown leather belt, two pairs of Gainsboro grey coloured pants, two dark grey ties, a silver tie clip with cufflinks, two undershirts, and five dress shirts. Again, there was one that was embroidered and obviously more formal, as it was a (and Dudley was reading the tag) rich avocado green with _incredibly _similar embroidery to Dudley's done in fern green on it. The other four were the less formal shirts, with one in laurel, one in myrtle, one in shamrock and the last in castleton; all greens slightly varying in pattern as opposed to Dudley's solids.

On their way out Dudley heard Tommaso tell Orazio that Harry had been more partial to golds and reds, but Gilbert had forbidden him anything but green.

"...well for the social occasions it's only proper." Orazio said in reply, and Tommaso laughed loudly because that was 'exactly what Gilbert had said'.

The last place they went, a half hour before their ten thirty flight to Verona, was a small quick service restaurant that Tommaso highly recommended and had apparently been visiting for years. It was standard sandwich and chips fair, but as Dudley hadn't eaten since mid afternoon he was absolutely starving, and bought a second sandwich after his first was finished.

The final hour in flight wasn't too taxing on Dudley, though it was a bit boring since there wasn't anything but far off lights to look at out the window, although those held their own charm to them he supposed. Mostly he thought about Privet Drive, and his parents. He thought about Aunt Marge and what it would have been like to live in her house with her bulldogs, and he thought about Piers and all of those plans that were never going to happen now. He dwelled some on his other friends, the ones he hadn't been as close with but they were still _friends_, and how they were doing now. He felt like all this thinking was supposed to lead him to something, but when the plane landed and they once again began the process of unloading and gathering and moving themselves out to the rental car... nothing had come of it at all.

The car ride started out quiet, with Tommaso crashing in the backseat along with Harry, leaving Dudley and Orazio to occupy the front seats. Dudley fidgeted some, the silence and darkness and sinking dread finally getting to him and pushing him into asking Orazio a question that had been itching at him ever since he had first been told about Giuseppe Bovino II. He checked that Harry and Tommaso were both sleeping, steeled himself for –a reaction, a dismissal –and-

"You did not wish to come." Orazio said before Dudley could make a sound. "But you did."

That had not been what he was trying to bring up, but having it mentioned made Dudley's throat close up briefly. "Yeah." He admitted, swallowing thickly. "Not like I had much choice... Aunt Marge... she didn't want me." It felt like treason, to voice it to Orazio, to an _adult._ "She didn't want to be there after they died, she didn't even want us –_me, _she didn't even want to take _me_ in when Ms. Brier asked her about it at the funeral. I can't hate her for it, I _can't_, but-" Dudley hiccoughed and hastily wiped away some of the tears he had let slip. "-I feel like I should."

"_No one_ would blame you." Orazio told him firmly, all of a sudden giving off a terribly intense air. "For what it is worth, Giuseppe _is _looking very forward to meeting you. He has not seen or heard from your grandmother since before your father was born, and he has always been a man who deeply cherishes family."

"...what's he like?" Dudley finally asked.

"He is kind-hearted more than anything, underneath the rocklike strength and dependability instilled in him by his line of work." Orazio began, smiling genuinely for the first time since Dudley had met him. "The Bovino take in many displaced children, and he has always had a soft spot for them. He works maybe too hard for his age, and his greatest weakness is that he cares far too much, just as most Bovino do. He can sometimes be too easy to read, and is single-minded to the point of making himself sick, but really that has just made him someone that many people can relate to easily."

"Why did... why did he take us-" Dudley cut himself off abruptly, far too embarrassed with himself to go on. "-What's going to happen once we get there?"

Orazio tactfully did not mention Dudley's change of subject. "There are several months left in the holidays, so you and Harry will be living in Riva del Garda at the main house. Harry will be guided by Tommaso and you by myself, for the first several weeks. Everyone will probably be looking to meet you at some point, as your grandmother was well liked before she left and we had all wondered what became of her. The only lessons you will have to worry about for the time being will be those for learning Italian, since we assumed you wouldn't be fluent."

"Ah, you were right about that." Dudley said sheepishly, although he knew that there was no helping it.

"Giuseppe also wants time to get to know you, the both of you. Around the end of August I expect that he will bring up your schooling and your future –whether you want to return to Smeltings or if you will attend his alma mater, the _Scuola Italiana di Armonia_, with the rest of the Bovino youth." Orazio shrugged and huffed out a small breath of air. "And I'm positive that long before you have to make any decisions, he'll have a talk with you about the family in general."

The rest of the car ride had been spent listening to the crackling old radio, as it warbled out either the low sound of static or what sounded to Dudley like an Italian Frank Sinatra. By the time they made it to the lakeside town of Riva del Garda it was close to midnight, and Dudley was so incredibly tired that he barely paid any attention to where the car was headed, dozing off for all the nerves coursing through him.

He vaguely registered low murmuring voices, the cool night air against his face as someone opened his door, the touch of fingertips to his temple and a brief flash of blue light; but after that there was nothing but deep, restful sleep, and the subconscious feeling of pulsing warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Vvv


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

SPOILERS

Dudley awoke the following morning earlier than he was used to, his head full of cotton and his body enveloped in a warmth that was just starting to become too much to bear. His eyes were crusted from sleep, the pillow under his head was unfamiliar, and upon pushing himself into a sitting position he found that he was in a pentagonal shaped room he had never seen before.

There were a few windows to his left that were letting in a foreign light, as odd as that sounded, and underneath those a little side table with a glass of water and a lamp sitting on top of it. His bags were all set on the floor next to the bed, and he could see a heavy wooden chest at the foot of it with several books piled on top. Further into the room, there was a wooden 'gentleman's chest', a desk next to that, and then some shelves and a shoe stacker across from them, and a big rug that covered most of the hardwood floor. Two doors were connected to the room, one of which had a lock on it and the second of which had been left partway open, showing beyond it a tile floor that made Dudley think it was a bathroom.

He looked around for a clock and spotted one sitting on the desk –it was seven o'clock in the morning, and although he had been feeling incredibly tired last night on the way here, he certainly wasn't about to get back to sleep now. So after mulling it over for a few minutes he decided to swing his legs out and pad over to the open door, finding that it was indeed a bathroom, and one that he took full advantage of. Even with the shower he had taken only yesterday, he felt grungy after nearly six hours in some form of transit. He dug out all of his toiletries with no hesitation and set himself up for a long time inside trying to feel human again.

Later he decided to change out of the rumpled clothes he had fallen asleep in, and after hesitating a bit he chose to wear the new clothes that he had been bought the day before. The fitted garments felt odd, but not particularly bad; in fact he really did like the way they looked, even if he wasn't wearing the tie or jacket. It was after a few minutes of making sure that the shirt was laying correctly that a knock sounded at the door, startling him a bit and delaying him from answering for several seconds.

"Er –oh. Orazio." He said stiltedly, holding the door open so that he could look at the familiar man standing on the other side.

"Perfect, I thought you would be awake. Did you have a good sleep?" Orazio smiled warmly and leaned onto the top of his cane, looking refreshed and ready for the day. Dudley still felt a bit dazed because of the early hour, but he gamely returned the smile just the same.

"Yeah, it was alright. Why are you here so early?"

"I thought if you were awake you might appreciate a breakfast, and if you were asleep you might want a wakeup." Orazio said plainly, waiting outside the bedroom door as Dudley pulled on his new shoes. "If you are very hungry I can give you a tour after eating, or we can wait to eat and go about it now. How do you want it to go?"

Dudley's first instinct was that he wanted to know where he was as soon as possible, but in the rational part of his brain something stopped him and pushed him to say that he would be fine getting a meal first. Orazio smiled again at his choice and gestured for him to follow along, moving down the hall to the left at an easygoing pace that allowed for Dudley to take in his surroundings at the same time.

"You may have it figured out already, but that is the room you will be staying in for now on." He supplied; they passed by numerous other doors on their way, some with little plaques on them with names denoting who lived there and others with the room's function engraved into it, 'maintenance closet', 'meeting room', 'reading room' and the like. "There are four floors to the main house, and three rings of halls each; you are a part of the main family line and so your room is on the third floor, just like Giuseppe and his siblings' families. Your cousin Harry is on the fourth floor just a few rooms away from being above yours."

They reached a staircase in the middle of the hall that led downstairs, spiralling so that it 'directly connects with the outer rings on the other floors' as was explained to Dudley, and it did that because it was the building's true main staircase as opposed to the one in the front foyer that led to the official meeting rooms and dining rooms and such. Dudley thought the whole floor plan was a little overcomplicated for his tastes but refrained from saying so, instead focusing on the path they were following so that he might have a chance of finding his way back later on.

They descended slowly due to Orazio's slight handicap, but eventually ended up in a large, circular room that had various other halls branching off from it. Orazio spent a few minutes pointing out where each hall led to before they took the narrow one directly to their right, passing by several storerooms and what looked to be a receiving area before they came abruptly to another large room, this one cavernous and containing a kitchen half (more similar to four kitchens than one) and a dining room half.

"So many people live here that we have to have a big space, that they can all eat when they want to. We actually have two set of staff –mostly made up of recent graduates of _La Scuola _or locals who apply, but the first's main jobs are cleaning and gardening, general housekeeping." Orazio started to say, placing a well worn moka pot on the counter and busying himself with it. Dudley hesitated slightly but in the end made his way over to the nearest fridge so as to try and find something to eat. "The other staff takes care of dinner and any catering for formal occasions we host, as well as stocking the kitchens. You'll meet them today along with Harry –they need to know your needs so they send someone to conduct a short interview."

"Everyone has dinner at the same time? This place seems a bit small if the amount of bedrooms I saw on the way down is anything to go off of..." Dudley said quietly, assembling a few standard things on the counter so he could get going –eggs, multigrain bread, an apple and a banana, a jug of milk and some bran cereal, making a mental note to ask if the kitchen staff could get the specific brands he needed for a few of his vitamin imbalances. Next to the stove, Orazio shook his head.

"There are two dinner times, two groups per section. It does a rotation every month so each group can eat with all the others. I'm not sure why it goes like that, but there hasn't been a problem with it as long as I've lived here." Dudley nodded and began rummaging in the cupboards above his head, looking for the cups and plates and soon coming across some spices he liked, as well as the lower cabinet where the frying pans were kept on roll out hooks. "There should be a schedule on the fridge, if you wanted a look. You'll find out which one you will be in later."

Dudley made a noise to show that he understood, but now was more preoccupied with making his breakfast than thinking about longstanding dinner arrangements. He was so used to his own routine that he zoned out completely until it was done; not even noticing when Orazio moved over to one of the smaller tables and a few people he didn't know started to trickle into the room. The sound of chatter rose around the tables, but it was upon turning off the element and sliding his eggs onto his already laden plate that it really registered to him what those sounds meant.

He jumped a good inch and nearly sloshed his glass of milk onto the floor when he turned towards the tables only to find Orazio speaking with a middle aged woman and a group of about twelve kids all staring at him with interest.

"Dudley, this is your first cousin twice removed, Ottavio Bovino." Orazio introduced once Dudley placed his breakfast on the table opposite the rather disconcerting group of children.

"Nice to meet you." Dudley said, a bit out of his depth while offering the smiling woman his hand. She scrutinized him for a moment and then grasped it firmly, and a shock of static ran though his arm at the touch, making her smile wider before she spoke.

"Just the same, Dudley. You look as I imagined you would." Ottavio then motioned to the kids that were anxiously watching the exchange and switched to Italian. "_Go and get your breakfast and let him eat, he's not going to disappear. Michelino, help Delinda with her bowl this time. Leslawa, make sure you have an apple at least along with your cereal_."

There came a chorus of '_yes, Zia_!' and then a scramble for the kitchen, and with the kids occupied for the time being Ottavio regarded Dudley again. "Call me Zia or Ottavio, everyone does. I hope you and my children get along; please be kind to them."

"I'll try my best, uhm, Zia." Dudley received a glowing expression for complying with her request, and –under the impression that eventually he would have to endure a slew of chattering and introductions –he began to dig into his meal. Orazio and Ottavio resumed their quiet conversation in Italian, and the next table over began to fill up with the kids who unlike Dudley had stuck to simple things like milk and cereal and a bit of fruit. This also meant that by the time Dudley had drained the last of the milk from his glass, some of them had already rinsed and loaded the washer with their dishes, and he could feel a dozen stares on his back as he went to do the same.

"Only two of them speak English well, so be patient with them Dudley." Ottavio advised, having him sit in the chair next to her so she could translate. "They've been excited to meet you and your cousin since they heard about you –it isn't often that a Bovino who _left_ ever returns."

"O-Oh..." Dudley mumbled unhelpfully. The six who had already finished their breakfast jumped out of their seats and came over, all looking to Ottavio for reassurance.

"From the right, Michelino and Delinda Calabresi." A boy a few years younger than Dudley smiled and helped his younger sister to wave at Dudley, which she did while half hidden behind Michelino's leg. They both had reddish brown hair and brown eyes, but Dudley couldn't help noticing that the younger sister's right arm was a simple type of prosthetic. "That's Heidy Bagwell next to Michelino, and Leslawa Borkowska beside her." Two girls around seven or eight, one with blonde hair tied into two buns and the other with black hair who nearly vibrated with restrained energy. "And then Saari Huba and Rosario Vaccaro are the last." The girl's head was completely shaved, and she gave Dudley a toothy grin, while the tall boy flinched a bit and frowned, clenching fists that were missing a few fingers, but somehow managed to look earnest as he choked out a 'hello'.

"_You'll get to know him later, but for now go and play in the garden. His first few days should be easy for him until he settles in. Rosa, you can stay if you need to._" Ottavio said to them, and while a few looked put out the little group ran off to do as told, Michelino hoisting his sister up and onto his shoulders as he did. Rosario hesitated for a few seconds, but in the end didn't follow the others and instead went back into the kitchen to presumably grab something more to eat.

Another few came up having finished their food in the meantime, and Dudley was told their names as well. There was a loud girl with brown hair who was named Roma Nevarez, a subdued boy named Fritz Altham who had a facial burn that disfigured part of his right eye and most of his lower jaw. Aurelio Syrus and Shane Viles were both the same age and figuratively attached at the hip, and appeared to have boundless energy since as soon as they were excused Shane grabbed Aurelio's chair and wheeled him away to the garden with great speed. The final two who were present (Ottavio had explained that she took care of about twelve more children at the moment) were Binh Lam, a tiny thing with dark hair that reached the small of her back, and Hadassah Aminoff, the younger of two siblings and a cheerful girl with legs shut inside rigid metal braces (though she scurried off with just as much speed as the rest of them).

During the slew of greetings, Rosario had managed to situate himself on the floor next to Ottavio's chair, staring up at Dudley solemnly as if he were trying to figure something out about him. It was only once all the others had vacated the room that he appeared to have come to a realization; his eyes lit up and he tugged on Ottavio's arm, and when the woman asked what it was Rosario pointed directly at Dudley and said,

"Un Cielo Tonante?"

"_That's right, Rosa. But remember..._" Rosario nodded seriously.

"'_Wait until its official'!_" Ottavio chuckled fondly and then glanced over at an unsurprised Orazio and a confused Dudley. "We had better go. I left Aviv in charge but they and Severo have been in a spat recently. It was good to finally meet you, Dudley."

"S-See you soon." Rosario offered his hand quietly, and with all eyes glued to them Dudley gave it a little shake and sent the obviously anxious kid a grin. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Orazio's eyebrows rising steadily and Ottavio smiling almost giddily, but that didn't matter as much as Rosario suddenly perking up as if he had been shocked, his whole face beaming. Ottavio soon got them moving again, but Rosario waved goodbye all the while he was following the older woman out of the dining area like an excited duckling.

"That was... a lot of people." Dudley eventually said, making Orazio hum in sympathy. "How many more live here again?"

"Let's see... with rotations of six for _Armoniche Ospedale'_s research teams... Ottavio's division and the few with caretakers... _the invention department... la Scuola... and the Guardians we have living with us..._" Orazio muttered to himself for a few seconds, occasionally tapping one of his fingers down as if to keep track of what was obviously a very large collective. "Probably about one hundred fifty Bovino living here full time, fifty who are as good as family, and fifty more here only part time. Something of two dozen live on their own in Riva, another few tens are farther away, like Gilbert in Munich and Camilla in Bari; so those ones visit from time to time. A small fraction of Bovino lose contact one way or others, like your grandmother Cecilia. And then there is house staff, our medical personnel, both major and lesser affiliations for businesses and the like, who some have lodgings in-house."

"That's _really_ a lot of people." Dudley concluded with no small amount of awe. He would have gone on to ask something more, but at that moment the door swung open again and Tommaso strode in followed by Dudley's harried looking cousin and a young woman dressed in a modest beige coloured uniform.

"Good morning all! Was that Rosario following Ottavio outside? He's so tall now!" Tommaso exclaimed, making a beeline for the large bowl of fruit on the nearest counter.

"It was. I'd forgotten you haven't seen him for a few years." Orazio replied, picking up the newspaper he must have set aside when Ottavio arrived. "Harry, did you sleep well?"

"Er, alright I guess." Harry said, nervously looking around as if he wasn't sure what he should be doing. Dudley briefly recalled the other times yesterday that Harry had acted wary or suspicious and couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him. "Can I –grab something? To eat, I mean?"

"Of course, whatever and whenever you like, although I might suggest taking dinner when you are set to." Orazio told him easily. "_Andrea, you have come for their interview?"_

"_Yes, Signor Gaspori." _She answered, straightening somewhat under the older man's attention.

"_In that case, might you fetch me the medical files that Mercurio has __**no doubt**__ already put together? That will give Harry a few minutes to finish his breakfast and they'll need to fill them in anyhow." _Andrea nodded once and spun on her heel, making her way out of the room without another word; Orazio turned back to the paper and blandly told Dudley of what the woman had gone to do.

Tommaso appeared to have the appetite of a man twice his size and half his age, while Harry awkwardly sat down with a plate that Dudley might have given to a five year old as opposed to a near fifteen year old. Harry ate sedately, progressively getting more ashen coloured as he went on, until he finally made the decision to forsake the meal entirely.

Dudley watched the entire process play out in his peripheral vision, wondering again what was going on with the slightly younger boy –as much as Dudley disliked Harry, he was the only family Dudley had left from his Mum now. Harry had always been smaller and skinnier than others, and now that Dudley was older he had come to the realization that his parents hadn't exactly been fair in their treatment of him; a realization only augmented by the separation that Smeltings and their passing had afforded him.

"_Here you are, Signor Gaspori_." Andrea announced as soon as she reentered the room, two slim files held neatly in front of her that she promptly presented to Orazio. "_Would they be ready now?"_

"_I don't see why not. _Dudley, Harry, Andrea here is going to ask you some questions, it is standard as I already mentioned. _Tommaso, would you come here a moment?" _Orazio stood then, Tommaso following his lead, leaving Andrea to sit on the other side of the small table from Dudley and Harry and pull out a notepad and pen.

"I am here to record your preferences for the time you will be staying." She said professionally, careful to enunciate her words for their benefit. "I have a series of questions I need you to answer, yes?"

"Alright." "...okay." They responded, and she readied her pen.

"Do you have any allergies?"

Harry shook his head, Dudley nodded. "Amoxicillin. I mainly got hives and some swelling, never anything worse." Andrea made a note and continued on.

Neither of them had any disabilities, nor any debilitating phobias or past trauma they needed special arrangements to accommodate, though Harry stressed a dislike of cold, underground areas. She took down their sleeping habits and completed level of education, preferences for things like laundry and cleaning (whether they wanted to do it themselves or not), along with smaller issues like preferred noise or lighting level at night, and the list eventually tapered off with their respective dietary needs.

"I'll eat anything, really. But I do like Mallardee Brand English Breakfast, if you could manage to get that." Harry relented when Andrea had insisted that they wouldn't mind buying or importing brands or specific items.

"I've been sticking to certain foods since my doctor didn't want me taking a bunch of pills every day when I could manage it on a diet. If dinner is prepared then I should be alright, though I may have a question or two about things like how much sugar or flour is used. I also drink Vacoste Variety Eight supplement because I have a hard time absorbing B Vitamins. Aside from those for my health, I'm pretty partial to Café Tinaiinan teas and their espresso." Dudley told her promptly, having been turning the words over in his head since Orazio had mentioned the interview earlier. "And as for a general request, if there isn't already then I'd like to ask for some options for organic vegetables and multigrain bread."

"It's no problem for any of that." Andrea assured him before pointing to a smaller fridge across the room. "We do keep most organic vegetables and fruits separate, so they don't get mixed up. Please use whatever you need."

Andrea left soon after, following a few minutes of conversation with Tommaso and Orazio. Dudley and Harry sat at the table in an uncomfortable silence, not quite sure what to say to each other with the sudden opportunity –they didn't manage to say anything at all, because it was then that Orazio insisted on getting the tour of the house and grounds over and done with.

Vvv

Harry and Dudley had been excused from the set dinnertimes for the first few days in order to let them settle in, and after that first long tour of the house Harry had mainly stuck with Tommaso, getting up to speed on what was going to happen during the summer and generally making himself familiar with the main building while he had the time. He hadn't seen Dudley around except once or twice in passing, but those few times he did were enough to really cement to him that despite his own reservations about this entire debacle his cousin was taking it worse, even when he hadn't appeared very shook up that first morning at breakfast.

Harry himself had no idea what to think about this place he and Dudley had suddenly found themselves in. He had been filled in by Orazio on what Dudley had gone through before Harry had returned from school –finding out his parents had died early in the morning, not having ever met the great-grandfather who had taken custody of the both of them so suddenly and having to arrange the funeral on such short notice. He had apparently been in bad shape due in part to his grief but also because of a 'family ailment' (something that Harry could _almost_ recall from those blurry days when they were young), and looked to have been making something of a recovery before arriving here at the estate and (Harry assumed) it had all caught up to him again.

With that said, Harry had not been as affected by the death of his aunt and uncle as he had been by the death of Cedric. Even now he still awoke in the middle of the night to a cold, gripping grief after dreaming of the last time he had seen the older boy, but in regards to his former guardians he was finding it entirely too easy to carry on as if they were still back in Privet Drive.

Logically he was aware they weren't, otherwise even if Dudley had gone to Italy Harry wouldn't have gone as well, and his time at the Bovino Estate so far had been comfortable, in complete contrast to how it would have been at number four. His room was very spacious and clean instead of cramped and cluttered, all of his things that he had brought with him had actually stayed with him, whereas his uncle would have locked the majority in the cupboard under the stairs. Tommaso was a pleasant change as well, explaining all and sunder to him without Harry even needing to press and seemingly enjoying Harry's presence (which was truthfully the hardest thing to get used to from a muggle adult). And they had allowed Hedwig to stay and accommodated his need for privacy so far, which put them _well_ into Harry's good graces.

Because of this he had only sent three letters; one to Sirius, and the others to Ron and Hermione. None of them had been a plea for rescue –in fact he hadn't mentioned the seriousness of the situation at all, not wanting them to worry too much after what had happened at the tournament. He told them he was out of the country for the summer with his uncle's relatives and promised to tell them all about it when he next saw them, and he hoped to hear back soon with their own plans for the hols.

His fourth day at the Bovino Estate had been when he had gotten some answers, albeit indirectly, about who exactly had taken in him and Dudley.

Tommaso swept him away from lunch as soon as he finished, and bustled him back to his room to change into his more formal shirt, making sure he had properly tied his tie as well. Harry still didn't particularly enjoy the colour that Gilbert practically forced on him, but the shirt itself looked smart all the same and it wasn't like he had to wear it all the time, and when Tommaso informed him where he was going he was all the more grateful.

They reached the third floor fairly quickly, and made their way to the inner halls, Harry soon feeling lost but Tommaso at least knowing where they were headed. The door they ended up standing outside of was heavy and carved, with a little plaque next to it and a few chairs and tables scattered around the area. They only waited for a few minutes before Tommaso poked his head inside, speaking rapidly in Italian before turning back to Harry with his usual encouraging smile.

"Alright, you're good to go in!"

Harry nodded shakily, trying to smile back but probably coming off like he was in pain –Tommaso didn't mention anything though, simply moved out of the way and pulled open the heavy door for him, giving Harry a slight push when he didn't immediately pass by. Harry entered the room quietly and felt his nerves skyrocket when the door clicked shut behind him and he was faced with two men scrutinizing him, one somewhat familiar and the other a perfect stranger.

"Harry, it is good to meet you in person." The man sitting behind the sturdy desk –Dudley's great-grandfather –said, smiling at him genially. "Come, sit down here."

He waited until Harry had walked over and sank into the lone chair on the opposite side of the desk from him, speaking in relaxed English while the other man watched Harry like a hawk from his spot leaning against a second closed door. "My name is Giuseppe Bovino, this is my right hand, Mariano Borghi. I hope that you've been treated well during your stay so far."

Harry swallowed the impulse to introduce himself, wondering why he was so nervous as he gripped the edges of the stiff new shirt cuffs –he would much rather be wearing one of his Weasley sweaters. "It's... good to meet you, as well. I've –er, everything's been... I've been treated well, thank you."

"Wonderful, that is just what I had hoped to hear. I'm sure Tommaso has already told you, but if there is anything you find you need, don't hesitate to let someone know, alright?" Harry nodded in response, jerkily, and noticed some subtle shift in Mariano's posture. "Since you will be staying here at the least for the summer, is there anything you are interested in studying or the like? Besides the language lessons you will have much free time."

"I have a bit of school work I have to get done," Harry started, mind drifting as he thought about the query. "I'm not really interested in much, to be honest. Nothing that I could _study_, at least, I work better by doing."

Giuseppe didn't appear to be surprised by his admission. "If you think of something, then, but you won't be held to it." Harry nodded again. "...I must ask, have you seen anything of Dudley recently?"

Harry's mind immediately flashed to the last time he had seen his cousin –Dudley had been disconcertingly silent and looked sick to his stomach, and they had only passed briefly in the hallway, Tommaso taking Harry to the laundry and Dudley walking with a worried looking Orazio –it had been yesterday evening, just after Harry had settled all of his things into his new room.

"Just in passing." He eventually said. "He was walking with Mr. Gaspori, last night. I... I think he's having a hard time of it."

Giuseppe nodded seriously at that, hands folding on top of the papers on his desk. "These things take time, especially for those who have never experienced loss. There is no shame in this, for you as well, with your own loss compounding that of your aunt and uncle."

Harry straightened in his seat, heart skipping. "I-I'm sorry?"

There was a pause, and then Mariano stepped forward; he was a fairly short man, with pale skin dotted with many scars and eyes that Harry couldn't tell the colour of in the lowly lit room. He kept clean shaven, with a completely white crew cut and yet impressively bushy eyebrows, and wore a simple pale yellow dress shirt with slacks and suspenders. He frowned at Harry, unimpressed with whatever he saw, and crossed his arms before speaking. "We look into those coming to stay here, lad. The coverage of that tournament you were in wasn't confined only to magical Britain, you know."

Harry's brain ground to a halt at the unexpected mention of the wizarding world, gears sluggishly trying to reconcile his impression of this entire past week as a muggle issue with the sudden fact that it clearly wasn't the case. "Wait, a-are you wizards?! I-How did-?"

Giuseppe and Mariano shared a brief look before Dudley's great-grandfather held up a hand calmly; for whatever reason this seemed to pull Harry out of his confusion enough to hear what the old man had to say. "Mariano _used_ to be a wizard, and so he still keeps up with his family and such. But that isn't an issue that you need be worrying over; what you should know is that none in the family proper can actually perform magic even if they can see magical areas and the like, and of the few that keep up with the magical news even fewer concern themselves with the United Kingdom. It is neither here nor there besides, as it isn't the topic we were going to talk with you about."

Harry's cheeks burned and he stayed quiet as Mariano spoke again, wondering what 'used to be a wizard' even _meant_. "Lad, it's lucky you're even alive right now, I don't believe I need to outline _why._ You are in Giuseppe's custody along with your cousin until you reach your majority –and I _do_ mean your _non-magical_ majority, make no mistake. It's his responsibility now to make sure you're well cared for, so for this summer you'll be meeting with a therapist every week."

"_Therapist?_" Harry repeated. "I-I don't –I'm perfectly fine, I really don't need to go talk to a therapist!"

"It is non-negotiable." Giuseppe stated firmly, but not unkindly. "I will be talking to Dudley about this as well, as you _both _are decidedly not 'fine'. Dudley may be displaying his distress more openly, but your nightmares do not go unnoticed, Harry. We will find someone magically informed who you can work through things with, and everything spoken of will be bound by confidentiality. It will only be until the end of this summer if all goes well, so please bear with it as a favour to me."

"..." Harry didn't feel inclined to cooperate, his stubborn streak threatening to lash out, but Mariano was glowering at him fiercely from behind Giuseppe as if daring him to make trouble. He mulled it over for a bit –if Giuseppe knew about the tournament and everything that had gone on, but wasn't a wizard, then what did he get out of this? But eventually Harry agreed, if only so that he could be excused and retreat to the relative peace of his room several floors away.

Vvv

The end of their first week at the Bovino Estate had been a turning point of Dudley's stay simply because that was when the memorial for his parents was scheduled to occur. The entire morning he had broken out of his depression only to become fidgety and unreasonably nervous, barely eating even though he knew he would feel worse if he didn't and unable to concentrate when it came time to dress for the affair. He had told Orazio when the older man had asked that it was only because this would be the first time he met his great grandfather –and that was true, he _was _anxious about how the mysterious old man would see him when they finally met –but it hadn't been the full reason.

Dudley didn't even know _why _he felt like this –it had been a sudden ill energy when he had awoken that morning which hadn't dispersed no matter how he tried to distract himself. He wondered whether it had anything to do with his so-called family affliction that Orazio had treated with those pills, but he didn't feel comfortable asking about it even if it meant that he was sick most of the day, and anything was better than that haze he had fallen back into after the first day here. Orazio probably hadn't believed him anyway with how perceptive he had proven to be, so he could at least be sure that someone would be prepared to explain away what was wrong if anyone else were to notice.

He finally dressed, and followed along with Orazio, Tommaso and Harry to get to the memorial, held in the Bovino cemetery lying at the back of the estate. As they approached, Dudley saw that there weren't many people attending, maybe only twenty at the most, but none of them Dudley knew in any capacity except for Ottavio. The front row was presumably where he, Harry and his great-grandfather would sit, being the closest relatives, and there were two rows behind it; older men and women in the third row and a smattering of different people in the second.

Dudley felt eyes on him, and by the time they reached the chairs the man he had singled out as being his great-grandfather had stood and met him halfway with a sorrowful expression on his face.

"Dudley, I am so sorry we had to first meet this way, _mio nipote._" Giuseppe Bovino II was shorter than Dudley only because he was stooped slightly at the shoulders, and he took both of Dudley's hands in his own spindly (but steady) ones without hesitation. His hair was silver and combed back away from his brown eyes, he had a large nose and wore a pair of thin rectangular eyeglasses, and though he was wrinkled Dudley couldn't pin down his exact age at all. The man wore a full three piece black suit and tie, the only colour being his dark green pocket square, and he was looking at Dudley as if he was simultaneously feeling great pain and immense relief. "Had I ever known..."

Dudley hadn't been the focus of this much emotion in a very long time, and he felt a lump form briefly in his throat in the minute before he pushed himself to respond. "Y-You couldn't have. I'm sorry too."

Vvv

Dudley began crying quietly near the end of the service; this was the last time he would ever feel so close to his parents, hearing a eulogy spoken by someone they had never met and in a country they had never stepped foot in. From his right, Harry averted his eyes from the proceedings and appeared incredibly uncomfortable –from his left, Giuseppe had kept hold of one of his hands, and despite not knowing the man Dudley still soaked up the comfort he offered so readily.

When it was all done, Giuseppe still hadn't released Dudley's hand, and the two of them remained sitting as everyone else (including Harry, Orazio and Tommaso) filed out of their seats and offered their condolences as they passed. Dudley nodded to each person as they moved away, more concerned with distracting himself by staring at the stone they had commissioned for his parents. It was simple, so unlike the more intricate Dursley stone they had actually been buried under, but it held his attention long enough that by the time he pulled his eyes away, he and Giuseppe were the only two left.

"I think... that we have been here long enough. Would you walk with me back to the house?" Giuseppe asked, and only now did Dudley notice that he was still looking at him as if both happy and sad. "I have some trouble with uneven ground these days."

"Okay." Dudley stood stiffly, drained from so many emotional outbursts recently, and offered the old man his arm to steady himself with. Giuseppe hadn't been downplaying his difficulty with the slopes –he moved swiftly but with definite imbalance, and several times they made detours around slippery grassy knolls or whatnot that Dudley could have climbed with no problems on his own. By the time they reached the house again the focus Dudley had kept on walking ebbed away quickly to uncertainty when Giuseppe asked Dudley if he would like to have lunch with him.

"Oh, I –yes, alright." He said after taking a moment to think. "But could I change first? I don't want to wear my f-funeral clothes any longer."

"Of course, _nipote. _I will do the same and send someone to show you the way." Giuseppe pat Dudley's arm and strode off towards the chef's kitchen while Dudley retread the now familiar route he took to his room.

Despite his see-sawing emotions as of late, Dudley had been able to muster up the energy to care about his appearance –an easy feat when surrounded by suits and dresses and a generally well off atmosphere. A lunch with his great-grandfather certainly required him (in his mind) to be presentable even if he did feel absolutely awful, and prompt in changing as well; he stripped and redressed quickly, fretting about including the tie before ultimately leaving it be, and still waited another five minutes before there came a knock at the door.

"_Buon pomeriggio,_ I've been sent by Don Bovino to bring you to lunch." A young man dressed in the housekeeping uniform said politely, motioning for Dudley to follow along behind him. "While we speak, is everything agreeable so far in regards to your rooms?"

"Oh, yes, it's all fine, thank you." Dudley noticed with interest that they were taking the service stairwell, and ascending higher than they should have been able to go.

The rest of the short walk was quiet, and by the time the still nameless young man left him at the roof-access door he felt as if he should have done something differently in the encounter, said something more or even introduced himself despite it probably not being needed. But those thoughts cut off when he noticed his great-grandfather at one of the tables, chatting easily with two people; one a member of the culinary staff who was wearing the off-white uniform and the other a short, older woman.

Dudley approached sedately, not wanting to interrupt or wait awkwardly off to the side –but Giuseppe noticed him immediately and beckoned him over, and the staff member stepped back politely while the unfamiliar woman turned to appraise him as he came closer.

She was short but stood straight-backed and confident; pale, wrinkled skin showing her age clearer than anything else. Blue veins snaked across her face like a network of rivers, framed by short, frizzy white hair and bolded by her similarly blue eyes. Her hands were square and sat steadily on her wide waist, and she quirked a toothy grin at him before extending her hand and loudly introducing herself as Santuzza De Campo, his great-grandfather's _Nuvola._

She didn't stay for long, just conversed with Giuseppe for a minute in rapid Italian while the staff member spoke with Dudley about what he wanted to eat. She was gone by the time Dudley sat down, leaving a ringing silence in her wake –Giuseppe switched his attention back to him the moment that the staff member left to go and fetch them their drinks.

"It will take a little while for Portia to return, so we'll have some time to talk today –just us two." Giuseppe told him, pushing the little flowering cactus on the table to the side so they might have more room.

"Okay." Dudley had never been very adept at talking with unfamiliar adults, but he tried to remember that this was his family –he didn't want to make a bad impression by lapsing into an awkward silence. "Uh –what do you want to –talk about?"

"Whatever interests you?" Giuseppe replied; Dudley must have looked perturbed at the prospect of choosing a topic, because a moment passed and his eyebrows creased together. "Perhaps, you could tell me about your schooling up until now? Your classes, extracurriculars, all that?"

School was the least exciting subject either of them could have picked besides the weather, but as a starting point it wasn't exactly terrible.

"Well, I've been going to Smelting's Academy, my-my Dad's alma mater. It's a good school, I guess. I wasn't so good in much of the studying parts... but I liked the practicals in science and design." Dudley resisted the urge to fiddle with his napkin. "N-Next year my teachers were going to put me in the Boxing Tourney, so, I think I was really good at that, at least."

It was only once he'd finished that Dudley really noticed how depressing he sounded. Without his friends around to bolster his confidence and with just how _much_ emotional energy he had expended in such a short amount of time, he was finding it exhausting to scrounge up much positivity for anything, least of all himself. Giuseppe allowed himself a troubled expression at his words and Dudley felt his ears turn red.

"There's nothing so bad for a student as disliking school, so I'm glad to hear you enjoy some classes. My..." Giuseppe paused for a moment. "My grandson, Giorgio, he never put any faith in education at all. He only ever finished his primary, though he made up for it with how perceptive he was in the rest of his life. He was your first cousin once removed."

"O-Oh." Dudley didn't know how to respond to that, catching the past tense.

"It's long passed. Today isn't the day to dwell on your future schooling, Dudley, but it is important to me. Whether you will attend a school here or you decide to return to Smelting's, I will do my best to accommodate you."

"I –I've been trying to think about it, but I've been distracted. I promise I'll consider every option." Dudley chose not to bring up his doubts about Aunt Marge's willingness to let him stay if he did in fact choose to go back to England, or the fact that Harry would probably be heading back to his magic school come September. "Though Orazio has sung y-_your_ alma mater's praises. It sounds nice even if learning Italian will be hard."

"I'm happy you are willing to think it through, there is no rush though. You have a place at _La Scuola_ whether you decide tomorrow or September 1st." Portia returned at that moment with their drinks –a tea and a coffee, and water for both of them, and they took a minute to reiterate what they wanted to eat. Giuseppe gained a bit of seriousness to his tone when she left again. "I'd like it if you were to tell Orazio that you are feeling sick, Dudley. The grief you feel is normal, but there is no shame in taking medicine to alleviate an illness you are suffering from as well."

"You can _tell_?" Dudley asked, embarrassed at being so transparent.

Giuseppe smiled with that same look as before, both happy and sad, both relieved and nervous –both glad that Dudley was here with him but regretting the means that brought it about. "My children, myself, my siblings, we all went through it at some point, some worse than others. Cecilia would have been able to treat it in your father and aunt if she needed to, but from what I understand by the time you were born she had fallen ill herself."

"Yeah, it's Alzheimer's." Dudley waffled momentarily on whether to go on, but this _was _Gran's father. "My Grandad died when I was little, but Gran was still pretty lucid up until I was six or so. She's been in a care facility since then... she's starting to get sick with other things now."

"She was my pride and joy, you know. Oh, her brothers were smart and charismatic, but I knew since she was small that she would be as beautiful and amazing a woman as her mother when she grew up. She would've excelled at any career she put her mind to." Giuseppe looked off of the roof in thought. "But she grew to hate... living here. She lost both of her brothers in this town, Cosimo at nineteen and Filippo at twenty four. I wish she would have told me before she left, I would have tried to stay in contact."

"...what were they like? I... I never knew I had any family besides Gran and Aunt Marge, before –before this all happened." Dudley asked, hoping that he wasn't being too prying; his mother had always discouraged that. "Is it really true that nearly two hundred Bovino live here?"

Far from telling him off, the questions seemed to draw Giuseppe out of his reverie, and he brightened a little immediately, like thinking about them was enough to lift his spirits. "It's true, we are a very expansive family. My great-great-grandfather, Columbo, had four children –Filippa, Cesone, Agnese and Erica, and all of them except Agnese have descendants living here now. It is a bit of a trend to have three children, on average." He laughed at Dudley's goggled expression.

"As for what they were like... Cosimo was the eldest. He was honest and particular about certain things; he could remember small details about a person that no one else would ever think of. Cecilia was smart, scholarly, and she loved to go out on the town and have fun with her friends on the weekends. She met your grandfather while he was visiting for work. Filippo was so charming, he could walk into a den of thieves and come out with the whole lot of them calling him a friend. He weight lifted in competition, won silver three years in a row. We all thought he would take over the business, but he and his wife, Madeleine, they were killed in a train accident."

"It is sad to have to think about it, but you, Marjorie and Cecilia are my only living descendants. Cosimo and Filippo, Madeleine and Giorgio, Vernon, they are all gone now."

"That's _awful_." Dudley couldn't help but say –as soon as the words left his mouth he felt terrible for voicing it. "I'm sorry, I mean –I wish I could've met them." It wasn't a good thing, but he almost felt reassured that he wasn't alone in losing close family. "I heard –from Orazio –that your siblings have children?"

Giuseppe's wistful look lessened at that. "Indeed. My sister Camilla moved to Bari for work, far to the south from here. Her son Romano is there as well with his daughter and son, Priya and Riccardo, your second cousins once removed."

"Lorenzo, my brother and _Fulmine_, died some years ago, but all three of his children still live. Ruggero lives here with us and is on _del'Ospedale's_ research team, and Ottavio is here as well, whom you've already met. Ernesto lives in Lecce and unfortunately cut all ties with us after his father's death. Of his three children, your third cousins, Elena and Donato, and Donato's daughter Ruth all live here. Delphina left with Ernesto but died giving birth to her only son, Lambo. Up until a few months ago he was living here under Ottavio's care, but now he's staying in Japan with the young successor to the Vongola."

Listening to his great-grandfather, Dudley felt some sort of relief in his chest –like he'd been held under a constant pressure and just now was allowed to breathe properly. "I keep getting surprised by how _big_ it is. I don't think Gran ever actually told anyone, so I always sort of thought –well, it's going to take a lot of getting used to." He wondered if he really looked like Donato as Gilbert had said –people had always said he looked like his father, but he knew it was only because they had both been overweight. He liked to think that by trimming up lately he might look a bit more like his mother –they were both blonde and had thin noses, though his mother's skin was a few shades darker.

"And you will get used to it, eventually. Did Orazio say that we have a reunion every year or so?" Dudley shook his head. "We're family now, Dudley, don't forget that. So it doesn't matter to me where you go to school or if you learn Italian, or if you remember everyone's names or not. So long as you feel at home here, so long as you take care of yourself properly, that's what matters. Alright?"

Dudley nodded again, humbled, and feeling once more that he wanted to cry.


End file.
